


Roadtrippin’

by FlannelsAndCandles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Edmund Fitzgerald, Gen, Guitar, Impala, Memorials, Michigan, Road Trip, Shipwreck, Whitefish Point lighthouse, deans playlist gets a new song, diary entry, ghost story, haunted items, maritime, michigan history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlannelsAndCandles/pseuds/FlannelsAndCandles
Summary: This is a diary entry from someone who worked with the Winchesters when they went back to doing the “monster of the week.”No spoilers, I promise.
Kudos: 1





	Roadtrippin’

Date: November 10, 2020  
Location: Whitefish Point Lighthouse, Paradise, Michigan

Sam called asking for my help on a case and if I‘d ever heard of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, which of course I had. I'm a Michigan girl, born and raised. He said we were going to Paradise and I just laughed and made the comment about how I’ve already been to Hell, Climax and Paradise. Little did I know that we were going to the Great Lakes Maritime Museum.

I hate maritime museums. With a passion.

He said I was the only one they knew from  
Michigan (besides Lisa, but she had every memory of him erased - we don’t talk about Lisa) that had even heard of the place, let alone where to find it. Probably because it’s at the tip of the UP and also a good part of your day was spent driving. That doesn't even take into account snack breaks and potty breaks, or that whenever we come out of the gas station, there’s a bunch of guys with baseball hats on, drooling all over the car. Then they have to ask all these stupid questions and tell stories about how their “dad usta drive one ‘cept his was blue.” Sitting in the backseat of a classic car is fun and all, but only for like 5 minutes until your legs cramp so then you have to turn to the side, and your butt falls asleep.

Anyway, back to the museum.

They had some calls about the Crew Quarters where you can stay and how they would hear water rushing in the walls or radio static when there’s no radio in the room or it was unplugged. Some people would get, like, freezing cold and find it hard to breath, almost as if they were drowning. Management says that they cleanse and sage the building at the end of the season, but still get calls and reports around this time of year.

I told them today was the 45th anniversary of the ships sinking and they both just looked at each other. We stopped at a restaurant in Cadillac so Sam could use the WiFi and double check everything I said to make sure I had my facts straight, which I did. Never doubt a Michigan girl and her history. We know these things.

We pull into the parking lot of the Crew Quarters and Dean checks us in. I wasn’t even out of the car when I started getting chills and had this strong feeling like someone was looking over my shoulder. This happens all the time in shipwreck museums and this was possibly the most famous one in Michigan’s history. Gordon Lightfoot wrote a song about it in ‘76 and I made Dean listen to it on the way up here.

We get to the room and Sam pulls out his EMF but it’s normal, the lights aren’t going crazy or anything. Which I thought was kind of odd, because I still had this feeling that someone was directly behind me. At one point, I turned around and said “Dude! Personal space!”

In the room, there were two beds (typical) a few chairs and a small couch. The boys claimed the beds right away. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the crewman’s guitar that was displayed in the corner of the room, that I was drawn to. Again, nothing new considering I have a self diagnosed obsession with guitars. Above the stand that displayed it was a little plaque just saying that it was given to the historical society, but no name was attached to it. At one point, Dean picked it up and played a little. It was close to 1 am and he thought we’d all be sleeping, but even if I’m ‘dead to the world’ as mom would say, if I hear guitar...I’m awake. Didn’t recognize the tune, but it sounded old and almost like it was trying to tell a story. That’s when I felt the presence again.

Finally I had put two and two together and got up from the couch, grabbed the guitar from Dean and headed out to the boardwalk that overlooked the wreckage site. I grabbed the neck of it and flung it into the cold November air, watching as it splashed down and sunk in Lake Superior. Dean said something like “I thought you were asleep! If you wanted me to stop, you coulda just asked!”

He didn’t believe me when I told him that the weird feeling I got was the sailor and he wanted his guitar back. That was the feeling I got when I heard him play. It wasn’t until we turned around and saw the silhouette of a man playing guitar, sitting at the end of the boardwalk. We both just stood there as the apparition faded away.

“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot is now in Dean’s song rotation … and I’m never going to another maritime museum again.


End file.
